


alis volat propriis

by odst



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angels, F/M, Gods, Mythology References, icarus - Freeform, something I wrote a while ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 11:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odst/pseuds/odst
Summary: She was stained with divinity, forged in fire, & she said her name wasCarolina.





	alis volat propriis

It’d been forever since he’d taken a plunge, fallen from the skies. He didn’t kept the name this time around, _York_ instead of Icarus, walking among man as though he was a mortal.

The fall was vivid in his memory, the shades of gold the sun painted forever stained his mind. He was cursed to live & die for eternity, yet always be taunted with the knowledge of everything from before. He’d seen empires rise & fall, technology beyond his belief come in creation, forged by the light of the gods.

She was one of those things, forged by the light of the gods, & he’d known it as soon as he’d met her. She was no mortal, she was like _him_ , but he wasn’t sure how, or who.

She’d been in a crowd of sphinxes, all red hair & dark skin. She towered over him, & when her green eyes met his, her gaze rivaled the heat of the sun.

York had been enraptured immediately, & made his way through the cigar haze to seat himself at her side.

He mused on how he was quite recognizable, with his head of gold, when her piercing gaze met his, her honey voice dripping, his name rolling off her lips.

She was stained with divinity, forged in fire, & she said her name was _Carolina._

When the clock struck midnight, she disappeared with her flock, & York stumbled home, cigarette smoke cloaking him, & the hint of her unearthly aura underneath- blue cyprus, ginger, & myrrh binding him in their clutches, terrorizing his dreams with _Carolina_ just beyond his reach.

Upon waking, York could only feel the glacial grasp of the sea, his taste buds overwhelmed with the tang of salt, a grimace plastered on his face. The oceans plagued him, the echoes of lungs laden with brine, his rotten luck hanging around like storm clouds, waiting to release a deluge upon the bastards of humanity.

A week passed, & fate brought him right back to Carolina. The fire of the angel evaporated the seawater that his lungs bore, life after life, drawn to her like a planet is to its star. She brought him closer, & he gleefully let her singe his fingertips, & the angel danced around the sea.

Carolina had him blindsided, obsessed with stolen kisses with the star, craving the burn that was left in her wake, the heat of her touch. Carolina was a warrior, at her very core, & it was shown through every action, how she carried herself, her responses to his pestering.

York dragged the stories out of her, long forgotten wars, her title of _godkiller,_ & her body bore every constellation, every scar the angel had sustained.

“There is no ‘us,’” She’d insist, with her voice that encapsulated every note that was ripped away from the finest of composers, yet she gravitated about York, the pull between the duo smoldering.

“I know you feel what I feel,” He’d murmur back, & words would be lost. They’d speak in dead languages, comparing their glories, & York would always turn the sea of the conversation to her, how she rivaled the sun, how she’d stained him, stain like that of pomegranates, of the molten ichor that ran through her veins, chasing the verglas from his very soul.

Carolina stoked his heart with only the most ancient of fires, Carolina, the one who noticed the sea foam that stuck to his eyelashes even after a millenium had passed, the angel that kept him from the sea’s icy clutches, inspiring wildfires to run rampant beneath his skin.

The angel brought him silks fashioned after the night sky, peculiar fabrics that she’d swathe him in, constellations dancing across the clothing much like the constellations that twisted across her own skin.

The angel was more than the sun, & if he had to plummet into the ocean once more after her, he’d gladly take the fall. She was a warrior, yet York knew no danger when he rested within her arms, except for the visions her touch left in the wake, the eidolons that warred in the distant future, the hurricane whispers that left him disoriented, _the side effects of the love of an angel,_ they’d crooned one evening, the night he’d shattered a mirror out of dread, the starfire specters that taunted him from the corners of his eyes.

Long-dead gods whispered in his ears, the very ones his dear angel had slain. York’s only reprieve was when Carolina was near, vanquishing the gods & their prophetic riddles, clearing his mind.

He loved her, he thought, but he dare not admit it.


End file.
